Eros' Brew
by Slinky-and-the-BloodyWands
Summary: Willow hates Valentine's Day. All she wants to do is forget about love. Instead, emotions and memories collide when she runs into a murderer on the run by the name of Severus Snape.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss; Harry Potter belongs to JKR, blah, blah, blah**

**A/N: This is was originally written as a one-shot Valentine's Day Challenge for the Guild of the Fantastic Quill (send me a PM if you have any questions). **

**"Cupid Hates Me"**

"Stupid lovey dovey stuffed bears and chocolates," Willow muttered, breaking into a full rant. "Why do they give chocolates anyhow? If a girl gets too many chocolates, then suddenly her butt's too big and you don't like that little red dress anymore. Plus, those heart boxes are a total rip-off! They have, what, three ounces of nasty cream filled sweets? And the prices!"

Willow averted her eyes down, trying to ignore the smiling pink and red heart-shaped cut-outs staring at her from behind a shop's spotless window. Ignoring the decorations did her no good, though. A second later she was stepping over a foil valentine featuring a cartoon dog asking innocently, "Will you be mine?" She ran her fingers through her short red hair, holding back a growl of frustration at the nameless child who had probably dropped the offending letter. Black boots clicked against the sidewalk at an even faster pace as she sped toward the corner of the block.

"And flowers? How does that show love, anyhow? Without mystical help they'll just wither and die and there's nothing left. Nothing!"

Any other day, she would have had the patience, the cool collective that came with hours of meditation, to steady her nerves—but not on this day. On this lovers' holiday, she needed more than the healing of the earth. Actually, she needed a potion, something that would help her forget, something safer and more affective than a spell. She had thought about calling one of her friends or students, having someone stay with her while she waited for February fifteenth to arrive, but she knew that none of them would understand.

When they looked at her, they saw Willow Rosenberg, the Wiccan witch with the powers of an earthbound goddess, the heart of an innocent, and the sweetest smile one was likely to find in the Northern Hemisphere. Of course, they secretly remembered that she was a conduit of dark strength, a murderer, but that was a fact that they often pushed to the back of their minds, filed away as unmentionable. But the side of gray, the place where love deserved to be, was completely ignored.

Willow growled, stopping before she turned the corner. "I don't need this," she stated, gesturing to no one. She sighed. Maybe she did need it, after all. She entered the alley way. A green door with chipping paint and a tiny diamond shaped window waited for her. She took a breath, mentally shaking off the nerve-wrecked rambling Willow and putting on a smiling, strong mask.

The flash of pearly whites never quite reached her eyes. It never did these days. The black abyss left behind from the pain of loss could not be so easily filled. For a short time, she had thought that love was possible, that Kennedy would be able to give her what she needed, but there was little left after a phase of passion and infatuation. The relationship had quickly faded after the fall of Sunnydell. A trip to South America had shown them that they were nothing alike.

Over the holidays, Kennedy had introduced her new girlfriend, taking a seat amongst a hundred other hungry slayers waiting to feast on goose, ham, turkey, and Katesh Vlor demon boar (one of Andrew's recipes). With Xander and Buffy and Giles surrounding her, it had been easy to pretend that everything was alright. But vacation time was over.

Now she had to endure the most horrible holiday of all. Alone.

She walked into the hide-away shop, stepping around a display of the latest in herbal, magical substitutes. She didn't bother reading the advertisement, instead veering toward the back of the shop where the shopkeeper could usually be found, hiding behind a stack of dusty books and scrolls. The Crow's Foot reminded her a lot of the Magic Box—except for the dank, musty atmosphere and the owner's greedy aura (somehow, it wasn't quite as 'pleasant' as Anya's had been). She stopped, hand hovering over the service bell.

"May I help you?" asked an overly pleasant voice.

Willow surveyed the shopkeeper a moment without answering. She had been in the Crow's Foot before, for a few minor ingredients. Always the little round man standing before her had frowned and growled the general direction of the items on her list, greedily snatching her money away before ushering her out of his establishment. So why, she pondered, was he donning a fake grin?

"I'm looking for a potion," Willow stated. The man's smile remained. "Forgetfulness or temporary memory potion—I read about one which sounded like what I need. . ."

The shopkeeper brushed off the rest of her sentence. "List?" he asked curtly. Willow pulled out a short slip of paper. The man looked it over and shook his head. "We're out of jobberknob, and there won't be a supply run until next week. I have a few more recipes."

"But the others probably take over an hour to stew, don't they?" Willow asked.

"A month at minimum. What about a nice spell? Always fast and easy for someone as _experienced_ as yourself."

"No," Willow snapped, ignoring the fact that he had all but called her an amateur. "A spell won't do." She left out the fact that memory charms of were likely to wear off on someone as _experienced_ as herself. "Don't you usually carry some pre-made potions?"

"Listen, sweetheart." The shopkeeper's phony smile disappeared. "We're even out of your basic love potion today, alright? Come back some other time, and I'll throw in a few salamander tails for the inconvenience. Now git."

He stormed behind the curtain, leaving Willow standing at the counter. She opened her mouth to unleash a few unlady -like words when she heard a muffled voice behind the curtain.

"Who was that?" a voice whispered.

The shopkeeper shushed the other person. "Just some muggle looking for magic cures—you wouldn't believe the amount of money they bring in."

_Who was he calling muggle? What's a muggle anyhow?_ Willow leaned over the counter listening in.

"It's almost closing. Are you sure he's going to show?" asked a woman.

"He's been coming by twice a week for almost a month with fresh potions. Sells them for cash only. I have to admit, his stuff's good."

"Of course it is. Wouldn't you expect a murderer to know his poison's from his antidotes?" one of the others snapped. "You are certain that this is our man?"

"I wouldn't have owled you if I had any doubt. I saw his picture in the nationals—it's him alright, from that greasy mop to that huge honker, it's Snape."

Willow took a step back, her interest peaked. Nevertheless, she realized that the capturing of a murderer was not an event she wanted to be present for. She quietly tiptoed to the side exit and made her way out. She glanced back at The Crow's Foot, a chill passing through her. Perhaps, she needed to put the slayers on alert for this Snape guy.

BAM!

"Insufferable fool!"

Willow felt her face redden as she pushed herself off the ground, looking down at the man she had quite literally crashed into. He was dressed in what Willow could only describe as robes, and he groped through the black layers for a few bottles that were rolling out of his grasp. Willow picked one up and handed to him. He stared at her, black eyes burning a hole in her skin, before snatching the bottle and pocketing it. He stood, kicking one broken and leaking item to the side.

She watched him intently, mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish.

"Watch where you're going next time," he hissed.

"Hey!" she snapped as he pushed by her. She grabbed his sleeve, and he looked over his shoulder, glaring. "You ran into me," she said, not at all sure that that was the truth.

"Me, purposely touch you? Idiotic," he sneered.

She held on to him, nevertheless, a dazed look passing over her face. She studied him a moment more, looking both deeper and further away until she could see the bright glimmer of his aura.

_Not a murderer._

"Is your name Snape?" she asked.

Physically, he gave nothing away, but his aura pulsed, growing paler, sickly. "Excuse me?" He jerked away from her touch.

"Don'tgointhere!" she rambled. "I mean, someone's waiting for you. I think. . . it's a trap."

"You think?"

"It is," she clarified.

Confusion openly washed over his features as he stared at the red headed girl in front of him. "You are a witch," he said, as if that had not occurred to him, "of sorts."

She found herself nodding. _This is stupid, Willow. Big Stupid! Mental slap on forehead stupid. Why don't you just tell this 'stranger' your life story while you're at it._

Before she could finish her mental qualm, she looked up.

A man was stepping out of the green door, but it was not the shopkeeper. He was pointing something at Snape's back. A wand?

"Watch out!" Willow shouted.

A shot of light lashed out, stirring the hair on Snape's head and hitting Willow in the neck. The witch gasped as the spell took her, and her eyes rolled back, her last memory of cold fingers grasping her wrist and her body being propelled through space and time.


	2. Chapter 2

** Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter, and I am making no money off this fic. **

**"With a Strange Valentine"**

Willow's eyes flickered open, and she pushed herself up on her elbows, staring at her dimly lit surroundings in child-like wonder. Shelves of bottles and jars littered with worn labels and a layer of grime rested in the cabinet across from her. The rest of the room was almost bare of décor, scattered only with a few remains of mismatched furniture, a broken recliner there, a few cobwebs here, a slanted table at the room's center.

But what she noticed last, that which she should have noticed first, was a tall man garbed in black on black robes and craning over a boiling . . . cauldron? _Who uses cauldrons anymore? The Weird sisters?_ She smirked remembered that she had been content with a few basic lab flasks for her first couple of years as a witch.

The man looked down into the red bubbling liquid, squinting in disgust at the pink smoke that rose from the concoction, swirling about the locks of greasy black hair that hid most of his face. He pulled out a tiny dropper, holding it out with long steady fingers and counting silently.

_Who's the vampire wannabe?_ Willow sat up, rubbing her temples in frustration. What had happened? Wasn't she ranting about something? Chocolates? Then she had walked into a magic shop and. . . . _Oh, boy._

Her eyes widened. Someone had been trying to trap a murderer. The murderer, a man named Snape, the man in front of her! So why had she decided to give him a heads up? What had convinced her of his innocence?

"Stupid, fuzzy brain," Willow muttered.

"At least you are willing to admit your mental weaknesses," came the snide reply.

"You. . . Snape."

The man's coal-like eyes shot up, instantly sending a chill down Willow's back. He made no show of emotion, but she could feel the coldness coming from him. "The primate speaks. Perhaps, I can teach it to string together sentences next."

Willow thought she had lost her tendency to be pushed into a shy blush by a simple comment, but obviously that was not part of being one of the most powerful witches of her lifetime. She recovered from the statement and put on her intimidating-evil-Willow face that she had used on Andrew more than once.

"Where am I?" she asked.

Snape stared at her, unflinching. "In a basement," he said. "Now remain quiet. I have work to do."

"Quiet?" Willow repeated. She jumped to her feet, ungracefully teetering on the heels of her boots before stepping forward. She approached the potion maker, arms crossed in a defensive stance she had learned from Buffy. "You want me to stay quiet? What did you do to me?"

"Nothing harmful." He raised a stick—wand, Willow amended—and pointed it at the cauldron. The spoon began to stir the potion on its own. "The auror stunned you, and I was forced to apparate with you, not a wise decision on my part. Apparently, you fainted from the excitement."

"What? Whose aura stunned me?"

Snape blinked, much like Willow had moments earlier. "You're a witch," he stated.

"Yes," Willow replied. "And you're obviously some sort of wizard, Sorcerer, magicky person yourself." The spot behind her eyes began to tingle before images flooded her mind. _Willow walking toward the shop, muttering nonsense about Valentine's Day. Willow laughing at something Xander had said. Willow cradling her dying lover in her arms._

Willow pushed off the assault. "Get out of my head!"

Snape stumbled back a step. His thin lips formed a frown of worry, but his eyes were wide in awe. "You have studied Occlumency?" Willow's dumbfounded expression gave him the answer he needed. "You're wandless—a muggle witch. What's your name?"

"I'm Willow."

Snape made no show of recognition, but his eyes shifted to the cauldron beside him. He raised his wand to stop the stirring. The pink smoke began to burl out in clouds, wrapping around the two. Willow could smell the spicy, sweet scent of the elixir, and it tickled her nose.

"Eros' Brew," she said with a grin.

The wizard nodded. "That is one of its many names. It is an advanced love potion. I was planning on selling the stock, but I will be forced to take my goods elsewhere."

"I had too much contact with love spells and potions as a teenager." She shrugged. "But I've never tried Eros' Brew before," Willow said, staring at the pink clouds. "It's too strong. Once drunken its effects are almost irreversible. Actually, I've read that you don't even have to force someone to drink it, contact to the completed substance is usually enough of a stimulant to cause the same results. Rumor says that the scent alone acts as an aphrodisiac. . . ."

Willow's mouth snapped closed. The wizard stared at her for a moment and the two automatically took a step backwards.

"I'm immune to the effects."

"I don't feel a thing either."

Willow bit her bottom lip. Nope, she didn't feel like there was a pack of giddy bunnies jumping in her stomach, no sir-ree. She fiddled her thumbs. "So, I should be going. . . ."

"You cannot," Snape snapped. "Not yet," he added more gently. "The person who stunned you most likely saw your face. Were you to leave at the moment, you would be recognized. I cannot afford such a risk."

"So, what? I'm supposed to stay the night at your place so that you don't get caught?"

"Essentially. However, your stay will be much shorter than you assume. I will be leaving as soon as the potion is complete."

"And that will be?"

"An hour."

The two were quiet. Snape took the chance to begin packing his goods into a tiny box that seemed too small to hold all the bottles. Willow sat back on the dingy gray sofa, nervously tapping one foot on the floor. From the man's behavior, she was certain that he wanted her to keep her mouth closed for the remaining fifty-five minutes. She watched him anxiously.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap._

"Stop!" Snape shouted.

Willow grinned sheepishly; maybe she shouldn't spend more time with Dawn and Andrew. "Snape isn't your first name, is it?"

The man turned toward her as if another snarky remark was already on the tip of his tongue, but his gaze softened when he met her eyes. "Severus."

The young witch held out a hand. With hesitation, Snape slowly took it and shook it briskly. "Nice to meet you, Severus," Willow smirked. "Let me guess—you were a teacher at some time? Or at least a faculty member at a high school, right?"

"How did you . . . ?"

"Believe me, I can tell," she answered. "The tapping gets former educators every time. I'm guessing that you're no longer teaching, though. Murder charge is sorta hard to pass off on a résumé. Why do they think you did it, the men from the shop?"

Snape glared, a dangerous look in his eyes. "What makes you think I didn't?"

Willow stared at him, reading him. Her eyes widened. "No wrath," she whispered.

"One doesn't need hatred to kill, Willow," he hissed. "One only needs a reason."

"Someone's blood is on your hands," she said softly. "I'm just having a hard time believing that you're a cold hearted murderer."

"Why is that?" he snapped. "What exactly would you know of the subject?" She looked away. "Just stay quiet until the hour is up, and then we can both go back to our lives."

Willow let out a short laugh, her eyes glittering wet. "You think you're some big bad," she growled. "You're a fool. When I look at you, all I see is a sad old man rolling around in self hate. That must be what I saw when I saved your ass from getting caught. You're too busy moping to be a killer."

Snape's wand was at her throat, his anger displayed in his every feature. "You would do well to keep your mouth shut. You understand nothing."

Willow lowered her head, and the wand flew from the wizard's hand. She raised her arm, and Snape was slammed against the wall. Willow's hand wrapped around his neck, her eyes flashing black for a moment that brought the man to silence.

"Listen, teacher. I'm trying to give you a free lesson," she said, her voice mocking his calm and calculating tones. "Obviously your little mind game earlier didn't dig deep enough, because I do know what I'm talking about. I do understand. I have killed, for wrath, for revenge. So don't tell me that I'm wrong. Don't tell me a lie."

She dropped him to the ground, burying the darkness that threatened to burst from her. Snape gasped, rubbing his neck. He looked up at her. "Then you are the one I've heard of. The wandless one who almost ended the world before the American Wizarding Council had even detected you. You're thought to be a myth amongst the more sensible minds of my community."

Willow frowned. She opened her mouth to speak but a loud pop echoed from overhead. She gasped, and Snape pushed himself off the floor, quieting her with a gesture. He grabbed her arm and led her to the other side of the room.

"They're here already. I have no idea how they found me so soon." He shoved his box of potion ingredients into her arms. "Hold this while I prepare the potion for transportation."

"What?" Willow whispered. "Leave it. Let's get out before they find you."

Snape snatched his wand off the ground. "I can't leave it behind! Do you know how long it took to reach this level?" he hissed. He swished his wand and the boiling cauldron rose in the air.

Willow could hear footsteps getting closer, voices approaching. "Come on!" She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward her. Snape's concentration severed, the cauldron fell to the floor in front of them, splashing a wave of red droplets. Willow gasped as the hot liquid scalded her hand and face. She looked up to see Snape, dumbfounded and covered in tiny crimson dots.

"Oh bloody hell," he swore. "What have you done!"

Before Willow could answer, the basement door flew off of if its hinges.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter, and I am making no money off this fic.**

**  
****"Forget Me Not"**

Time began to pace itself with Willow's racing pulse. Everything happened so very fast. Snape had raised his wand, reaching out to grab hold of Willow. She knew what he was going to do. He was going to perform his disappearing act again. That was a good plan, nice, solid. However, the witch's instincts told her to run. And Buffy always suggested that people follow their instincts.

Willow thew up her arm, power sweeping over her as three men armed with wands filtered into the basement, already firing spells in her direction. Amazingly, they seemed to go right past her, not even hitting the wizard at her side. She flicked her wrist, calling out to the goddess for strength. The aurors flew backwards, crashing through the wall as one solid mass and taking bits of plaster and wood with them.

Willow put an arm around Snape's waist, leading him through the room, past the aurors and up the stairs. The house above was empty, and they reached the front door unhindered. She didn't realize that she was still holding on to the wizard until they were out the front door and almost a block away from Snape's hideaway. She let go over him, a nervous cough stuck in her throat.

"Impressive," he breathed. "However, I believe apparation would have worked somewhat better."

"Not the way I see it," Willow answered. Her pace quickened as the two turned a corner. She could see what appeared to be shops ahead. _A nice, public, crowded place, that's what we need. And I could use a soda and a Valium to go, too._

"And how, may I ask, did you manage to come to that conclusion?" Snape snapped.

"You spoke as if you had been hiding in that basement for a few months, right?" His brow arched at the question. She continued. "I'm guessing that you didn't use any major magic in that time period. My guess, those auror guys tracked you through your apparation spell. More specifically, they got a general location from your spell and were able to find your exact location because I let myself go all Darth Me in there for a moment."

"No," Snape hissed. "That is not how magic is 'tracked'. That would be virtually impossible. Do you know how much magic is used in a single day?"

"Generally, I would agree with you, but I think they were able to use your apparation to find you because they knew what point you left from. It's a basic theorem of magical relativity. In order to find a subject transported from point A to C, if point A is known and a magic type recorded than an approximate location for B could be established wherein point C would then be vulnerable. They were probably keeping an eye on the area, saw my flash of black magic and were on their merry little ways. Severus?"

Snape stared ahead, trying to comprehend what she had just told him. "They were able to as establish a link because they knew the exact location from which I apparated?"

"That sums it up," Willow said. "Granted, that's just a hypothesis."

"That you developed within five seconds before our escape?" Snape asked, clearly impressive. His face hardened again. "However, we still have not fully escaped them. How do you propose we leave the area without drawing attention?"

"Hee," Willow squeaked. "That will take more thinking time." She looked up ahead and nodded. "Let's go in there. It's open until nine, and it's fairly crowded."

Snape's face twisted in disgust. "A muggle clothing shop," he hissed.

Willow gave him a faint, apologetic smile before looping her arm through his and walking into the store. "We'll go to the top floor and try to think of something," she explained, pushing him onto an escalator.

The wizard took a shallow breath, looking over his shoulder toward the glass doors less than a hundred yards away. Willow tugged at his sleeve, and he stepped off of the moving stairs, automatically assaulted by an assortment of pinks and reds. The witch beside him groaned, and he turned to her with a questioning glance.

"I somehow doubt that you detest lingerie as much as I do," he said.

"It's their Valentine's Day selections," Willow hissed. "I hate this holiday." She frowned at the display of pink thongs decked in tiny hearts. "And I hate those too," she muttered.

Snape chose to ignore her last statement. "And what now? I don't exactly blend in with the crowd."

Willow took one look at his robes and realized that she needed to keep him as far out of sight as possible.

"Can I help you?" asked a bubbly blond, making her way through a maze of wonder bras. The young clerk raised an arched brow, staring with disapproval at Snape's strange attire.

Willow let out an awkward giggle. "I know, I know," she said, "they just keep on moving the Renaissance Fair closer and closer to spring." She jabbed an elbow at the wizard playfully. "Some way to spend our special day, isn't it?"

The attendant laughed, accepting the lie. "I'm guessing you two want to spend your special night in more fashionable wear?" she asked with a grin that made Snape want to puke.

"You read my mind," Willow answered. "But I think we can find what we're looking for." Leaning forward, she added, "Robert gets a bit shy when it comes to these things, if you know what I mean."

The woman nodded, her smile even larger, and turned, "Just call if you need me."

"Despicable," Snape hissed as soon as the young woman was out of sight. "I don't know which one of you was more idiotic."

"OH, hush," Willow cooed. "At least we're rid of her now. Let's go somewhere a bit more private." She could see the hint of his aura expand nervously, though his frown only deepened in reply. "We need somewhere to hide out. They won't attack while we're in here, but that won't stop them from spotting us."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Follow me."

Willow curved her way through the lines of slips and body fitters until she reached the back of the department. She stepped into the short hall that opened to the fitting rooms. Luckily, every one of them was empty, their doors somewhat shut. Willow glanced into one of them. Her brow furrowed.

"Maybe we should each take one. They're sort of small," Willow began. Snape put a hand on the small of her back and pushed her into one gently.

The witch's throat constricted as she threw herself against the wall, watching Snape shut the pathetic excuse for a door behind him and slide its bolt into place. He held his robes up, and took a seat on the tiny 'convenience' stool that was braced against one wall much like a short hanging bed. It whined with his full weight.

"Would you please come closer," he said.

"Excuse me?"

Snape glared. "Unless you would like our little working friend at the register to hear us, I suggest you come closer so that we may lower our voices."

Willow took a step forward, covering the full width of the dressing room in one stride. She fiddled her thumbs. "Maybe we should stay back. I mean, that potion—we both came in contact with it."

"Don't be absurd. Do you honestly think that you cannot control yourself for a few hours?" Snape asked. Willow sighed. The wizard shifted his feet, clearing a space. "Now sit here. We don't want her to see us either, now do we?"

Willow shook her head quickly, sliding down beside him, lifting her feet so that her legs interlaced between his. After all, they didn't want someone to see a foot handing down. _This is purely to hide us. We're doing this to protect us from the aurors. Absolutely no harm will come from this very innocent act of survival. Oh, goddess, my face is on fire._

"Is it hot in here?" Willow whispered, leaning forward.

Snape's eyes roamed over the younger woman's curving neckline, before shooting up. "Stuffy," he added.

Willow slipped out of the light jacket she was wearing, hanging it on the hook above her head. "That's better," she muttered.

She watched the wizard shift uncomfortably, feeling his boot slide against the outside of her thigh. The contact made her jump, forcing her to grab hold of his legs for balance. Willow blushed as she realized that her hold was pulling his body closer.

"Perhaps I should turn around the other way," she suggested. "I. . .I mean, umm, if I fell off, someone would probably hear and come to see where all the racket was coming from."

Snape only nodded as Willow twisted her body around, scooting her hips against the inside of his legs and putting her back against his chest. "Th-that's better, isn't it?" she asked.

The wizard swallowed hard. "Indeed."

Willow turned her head quickly. "You don't think this is. . ."

"No, no," Snape answered. "I am . . . Most likely, I am immune to the effects. I have been working with the potion for several years—dare I say decades—and a slight splash would have done nothing to me. I would know if this were anything but an instinctual act of survival."

The witch gave him an annoyed glance. "You don't think this is too obvious for a hiding place, is what I intended on asking," she smirked.

"Ah." Snape shift again. "Of course not—they're wizards, after all. I doubt any of them will wish to visit the lingerie department."

Willow looked back at him. "You're not wrong," she whispered. "You know, I have no idea why I'm still with you. After all, you're a wanted man. Usually I spend all of my time with wanted women." _Another mental slap on the forehead for tree-girl. Good work, Willow. Find a nice, hot, older murder and explain to him your sexual orientation. Score._

Willow winced. "I mean. I'm used to odd situations, but usually they involve my friends, not total strangers."

Snape was silent a moment. "If it's any consolation, I would most likely be on my way to prison if you had not run into me. I own you, I suppose."

"You're wrong." The witch smiled. "You so ran into me."

Severus watched her for a moment longer, a hand subconsciously on her side. Her eyes danced over him. He wondered if she could see that in him. Could she see the black and the white mixing? Could see she that he was taken by gray, what he saw in her? The answer was yes.

Willow's grin disappeared. Before she could stop herself, she was pushing up, tilting her head so that her lips brushed against his for the briefest and longest of moments.

Snape pulled back before the kiss could deepen. "You're beautiful," he said softly, Willow's face glowing in response.

The wizard shifted once more, one final time, pulling his wand free from the confinement of his robes. "Thank you, Willow," he whispered.

The young witch's face dimmed in confusion, and she was unaware of the weapon being held to her back. "Severus?" she asked.

Snape's face hardened. "_Obliviate!_"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or BtVS.**

**  
****"In Remembrance of You"**

"Have a nice day."

Willow cocked her head, staring at the young woman across the counter. "What?"

The girl seemed to be holding back an eye roll. "Is there something else I can help you with, mam?" she asked in a rich English accent. "Perhaps you'd like to take advantage of our three day sale—savings begin today with juniors' jean at thirty to fifty percent off."

The witch took a step back, surveying her surroundings. _A department store? Wasn't I on my way to the shop?_ "No thanks," she finally said to the attendant. "I think I'm done here." _No, I specifically remember catching a taxi and going to this store for their big 'day-after-valentine's' sale to pick up something saucy. That's what I remember. I think. What the hell's going on here?_

"Don't forget your bag," the young woman said, holding out said item.

Willow took it hesitantly. "Ok. . . Did I pay for this?"

The girl raised a brow. "Yes, mam. And you got quite a bargain. The V-day selection was on clearance."

"So, it's February the fifteenth?" Willow asked, turning away after the other woman nodded. She walked a short distance before looking down into the paper bag. Her face flushed. Her purchase consisted of a pink thong covered in glittery red hearts and a matching push-up. Beneath the two was a box of chocolates. The cream filled kind. _I hate those stupid little cream filled candies and their stupid little boxes. . . So why did I buy them?_

Then an answer flashed across her mind so quickly that it made her dizzy. She had spent all Valentine's Day moping, and then, realizing how pathetic it was, she had taken a long bubble bath, put on her favorite romance movie, and ordered take-out. This morning, she had promptly vowed to go buy herself something special and had promised to spend next year's Valentine's Day with someone who would appreciated it (it being a pink panty set in this case).

"That's a load of crap," Willow stated, her eyes narrowing at the few customers who looked her way at the outburst.

Something was definitely wrong. And that something was her memory. Though she could remember in detail what she ordered the night before for supper, she knew that it was false. None of it was real.

"Someone tried to erase my memories," she hissed, making her way toward the store's front entrance. "Now, if only I could remember exactly what it was they covered up."

* * *

Willow pulled her feet under her, leaning into the couch and feeling much more at ease in her comfy sweats. She held the cordless against one ear, the remote control in the other. At the moment she felt very much like rewinding time and having a movie night with the younger version of Xander and herself pigging out on popcorn. But, alas, adulthood and witchcraft called.

"Back," Buffy's voice answered. "Sorry about the wait. I had to go straighten something out in the training room. Two of the girls were fighting over some guy they met at the beach. One thing let to another. You know how that goes."

"So they busted open the weapon's cabinet?" Willow asked with a smile.

"Girls will be girls," Buffy sighed. Willow could tell that her friend was at least finding some amusement in helping with the 'noobs', as the new slayers had been honorably dubbed. "Ok, now what were we talking about before we left? Shoes? No, not that. Thongs? That was it."

"Thong," Willow snapped. "One. Not mine. Mine now."

"So, you think a pervy sorcerer messed with your memory?" Buffy asked. "And he made you buy underwear and sweets. Sounds like one of Satan's minions."

"Buffy," Willow whined. "It isn't funny. What do you think they were covering up?"

"They?"

"You know what I mean."

Buffy groaned. "I don't know, Will. I mean, if you're sure that magic was involved. . . Can't you do a spell or something?"

"I can, but I don't know if I should. Messing with someone's head can be tricky—especially if it's the witch working the magic on herself. Plus, the memories seem to be coming back. Like, I'm pretty certain I didn't do any of that stuff I remember doing on Valentine's Day. I think they all should come back within another day—the perv probably didn't realize that memory spells don't stick too well on me."

"So they underestimated the mighty powers of Willow."

"In a nutshell." Willow leaned back, her head against. . . "Buffy, I think I just remembered something."

"Important?"

"Actually, I think I might have fallen asleep on a man," the witch answered.

"A man . . . ? That's different for you. Was he hot?"

"Buffy!" Willow growled.

"Will, you need to try to remember. Do that whole open-your-mind thing. Try to remember what you were doing when you very scandalously fell asleep on this mystery guy." Buffy paused a moment. Willow used it to shut her eyes, clearing her thoughts of the day and concentrating on the image of falling down onto someone's chest, her face touching the cloth of his . . . robes? She breathed in his scent. It was definitely masculine and laced with something spicy. There was a sweetness that she could almost taste stuck onto his clothing. Her heart fluttered.

"Well, I don't think I hated him," Willow commented, drawing herself back out. "He smelled like something familiar."

"Someone we know? What, was he wearing Tommy Boy or something?"

"No, more like a potion ingredient." The witch frowned. "Not that that detail is important at all. I'm going to try this dream aid tonight before bed—maybe it will help me sort through my thoughts."

"Yeah, you do that." Willow could practically see Buffy's grin. "Hey, Will, actually, I needed a favor, if you're up to it. Could you cancel your Wicca Study Group thing for a couple of days?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Well, you know that spell you set up for us? Slayer seeking?"

"Yup, have you recovered that girl in L.A.?"

"Not yet. We sent Andrew with a group of slayers. Would you mind tagging along?"

Willow was silent a moment. "Why not. I haven't visited sunny California in a while anyhow. Any reason in particular why you're sending me off?"

"Your expertise is needed."

"Buffy," Willow groaned.

"Ok, fine. We've taken a vote. You need a vacation. Ditch Andy when you get to L.A., dodge Angel's crew and enjoy yourself for a bit. If the geek gets into trouble, you'll be close by to back him up. Giles has already ordered your plane ticket. You leave in the morning."

Willow suppressed a laugh. "So, I'm that pathetic now. I'm being ordered to go on vacation."

"Yup, and Xander was the one who suggested it," Buffy said in a sing-song voice.

"You both will pay, missy!" Willow snapped teasingly. "I guess I should go. I need to go pack my bags apparently."

"Good luck and good dreams." Buffy paused. "And, Will, call if anything about this memory swipe develops, ok?"

"Will do," Willow said.

She hung up the phone with a sigh, turning off the television. It was going to be a long night.

**End Notes: Sorry for the extreme use of dialogue in this chapter—that's actually unusual for me. Anyhow, the memory thing isn't over with…Actually, it hasn't even began. Let's just say that the next chapter explores what really happened when Snape raised his wand. (Hint: Some of you reviewers weren't wrong about Willow**'**s powers.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP, BtVS. **

**  
****"Bloody Cow"**

"OBLIVIATE!"

Willow could feel the magic coming toward her, flushing around her aura, her own power, pushing the spell away as a vein of black magic was washed away by a calming white strength.

All hexing aside, the soothing moment that the surge gave her evaporated into nothingness. My, what an exhilarating three seconds that had been. . .

"What the heck was that?" Willow screeched.

Snape, breaking his cold demeanor, let confusion wash over his expression. "It should have worked," he muttered. Then he pushed himself against her, covering her mouth with his hand.

"Ug ur em so moosh troooble, mister!" the witch warned from under his offending appendage. She smacked his arm, and he let go over her, hands up in surrender.

"Lower you voice before someone hears you," Snape hissed.

Willow's eyes were burning with rage, but she lowered her volume nevertheless. "You tried to put a spell on me! What did you think you were trying to do, you idiot?"

"I was attempting to erase your memories of me so that you could go back to living your normal, muggle-based life!"

"My normal life!" Willow pursed her lips. "You obviously know nothing about me if you think that this is out of the ordinary for me."

"Exactly," he explained. "I know very little about you. You, in turn, know very little about me. It is for that reason that we should separate ourselves before one of us gets in too deep."

When he was right, he was right.

Snape moved his legs, forcing her to stand off of their cozy fitting room seat. The wizard glared up at her. "I cannot allow you to just walk out with knowledge of my whereabouts. The aurors who are tracking me will most likely find you when we go our separate ways. If they realize that you don't remember the encounter, they will leave you alone. You will be written off as a nameless muggle victim instead of an accomplice to a known murderer."

Willow blinked. "Oh."

She let a moment pass. "As much as that sounds like a plan, there are two huge problems."

"Enlighten me," Snape sneered.

"Firstly, you've probably realized that your little spell didn't work on me. See the problem, Mr. I-Have-a-Big-Nose-that-Doesn't-Match-My-Bird-Brain! I really don't like people messing inside my head either, so you're not going to get to take my memories that easily."

Snape's jaw was clenched in rage. Yet he held his wand hand down, as if attempting to restrain himself for the moment. "Noted," he bit in agreement.

"Secondly," Willow continued, her voice shaking in what her friends would have known as her 'impassioned ramble' state. "Secondly . . .Your stupid plan involved you running off and leaving me alone. Sure, you probably meant it as a means to protect me . . ."

"I move faster alone," Snape corrected.

"Well . . . Your plan sucked," she concluded, crossing her arms. _Now channeling Buffy, next stop sailor-mouthed-Faith._

Willow's face flushed in anger. For all the spite she was currently aiming at the man in front of her, her stomach felt like it was filled with a hundred bouncing, reproducing bunnies (may Anya's spirit not strike her down). _Eros' Brew! It's just the potion trying to make me ravage him! He's not even that good looking when he's angry. Okay, so maybe the fact that those dashing eyebrows of his become a uni-brow when he's mentally cursing me is just a teensy bit cute. . . Urg! I hate myself on love spells._

Suddenly her eyes widened as her inner-Snape-worship died down. "But my plan doesn't."

Snape opened his mouth, obviously to argue before he had even heard her point.

"Sit back and shut up, Merlin. We're using your idea. A memory spell might just do the trick."

"What do you have in mind?"

Willow smirked at his acceptance, opening her mouth. "Moo!"

* * *

_Moo!_

Moooo!

"Rise and shine, farmer! Ol' Betsy needs a' milkin'!"

Moo!

Willow's eyes opened, one at a time, to the horrific visual assault that was her digital Betsy the Cow alarm clock. Too tired to lift a finger, she sent a slap of magic in the offensive mooer's direction. The time froze at 5:30 am. She was supposed to be at the airport by seven. The exhausted witch suddenly felt a desire to strangle Giles for buying her ticket.

"And you!" she directed at Betsy. "I shall make cheeseburgers of you—waking me right when I was about to tell Snape my big plan." Her mouth dropped open. "Who's Snape? Wait. . . Snape's from my dreams. Snape."

She let out a guttural growl, pushing herself up into a sitting position, her fist creating a crater in the down of one pillow. "Stupid wizard! If he messed up on a spell to erase my memories, then why, in the name of the goddess, would I have helped him do a better job of it? This makes no sense."

Willow was about to go into a full fledged rant when she realized that she still hadn't packed her suitcase yet.

She sighed, standing with a stretch. At least she knew that she was "in" on whatever happened. That would comfort Buffy somewhat. The rest of her memories would come back on their own, she was certain. It would just take time.

"L.A. first, wizards later," she announced, stumbling toward her coffee maker.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP or BtVS.**

**A/N: This first part is supposed to make you go 'wait—what the heck did I just miss.' Just thought I'd give you a heads up. **

**"Like Newlyweds"  
**

"Oh . . .Not a bad idea."

An epiphany generally takes place all at once, similar to being hit with a sixteen-wheeler. However, Willow's epiphany came as a shock that was somewhat delayed—in fact, she saw it as a triple-epiphany, the first part coming in her dreams, the second in the cab, and the third at the airport. Or perhaps the sequence was all just one big epiphany and the figurative truck had just backed over her shocked form a few times.

Willow dismissed her mental ramblings, having confused herself beyond reason already. _Just my nerves_, she thought with a nod, entering the plane. _But honestly! What was I thinking, coming up with this plan? It's insane. . . Oh, wait, a love potion's involved—which explains the insane part._

Face flushed, she made her way down the aisle, squeezing past a rather large man attempting to stuff his goods into the overhead. Willow stopped at a set of seats, tossing her own bag above her. She put a hand on her hip, staring at the man sitting on the inside.

"You know, a gentleman would let the lady have the window seat," she said, letting a playful smirk curve her lips.

Coal-like eyes caught hers. "Then perhaps you should have brought a gentleman on board," came his cool reply.

Snape didn't give her a second glance, turning back to stare out the window at the runway. Nevertheless, he scooted over slightly. Willow slid into the seat beside him, unable to stop herself from smiling. Even ignoring her, she could see his body tense beneath the charcoal gray sweater and black slacks he was donning.

_He doesn't look half bad—I bet that cashmere's soft. . . .Oh, naughty, Willow! Remember: love potion!_ Willow shook her head. "I'm Willow. Willow Rosenberg," she said.

Snape let out a sigh, deciding to surrender to her antics. "And I am Benjamin Bestman," he sneered. As an afterthought, he sarcastically added, "Business man."

"And what is it you do, Mr. Bestman?" Willow persisted. _This is just too much fun—I can't believe he's actually indulging me._ "Or may I call you Benj?"

"I sell computer soft . . .ware, if you must know, Mrs. Rosenberg."

_Touché!_ "Oh, that would Ms. Rosenberg," Willow grinned with a wink for good measure.

Snape released a low growl in reply, having seen her from the corner of his eye. "Ms. Rosenberg, you look quite tired. Perhaps you should take a nap."

_He just has to spoil it, doesn't he?_ "Maybe after take off. I am a bit sleepy." Willow leaned in close. "I didn't get a wink last night, as you well know . . ."

The wizard coughed, sitting up a bit straighter. "Do desist," he hissed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Ummm. . . All fuzzy and warm. Willow released a muffled snore, waking herself up with the sudden sound. She blinked, realizing that she was snuggled up against Snape's sweater, which happened to be on his arm. _AKA, my pillow. For someone so icy, he's got an unusually comfy shoulder._

She sat up, holding back a yawn with one hand.

"We're not far from our final destination, Ms. Rosenberg," Snape said in a hushed tone, seemingly not aware that the young woman had been sleeping on him.

Willow nodded. "Excuse me, Mr. Bestman," she said, quickly standing.

Without another word, she walked back down the aisle toward the unoccupied restroom. The witch stood inside the tiny, sickly-floral scented room, counting in a whisper to ninety. When a minute and a half had passed, she turned the knob again. Not a second late, Snape slid through the open door, quickly closing it behind him. The two of them were almost chest to chest in the tiny confinement.

"I can't believe this was my idea," Willow said, her voice low. "I hope no one noticed you coming in here—they'll think we're some adventurous newlyweds or something."

Snape's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"What? You've never heard of people having sex in an airplane bathroom?" she asked. At his abashed expression, she snorted, attempting to hold back a giggle. "You really should get out more. But never mind that . . ."

"Using the facilities was your idea," Snape snapped, interrupting her.

"Yeah, but. . ."

"If you knew it was such a seductive atmosphere, then perhaps you should not have requested that we use it to discuss our plans," he continued.

"You big nosed . . . !" Willow let out an 'ump' of frustration. "Seductive?"

"If from pretense alone," the wizard answered with a sneer.

"A toilet is seductive to you? A shallow little sink and dinky faucet? For someone who sounds so intellectual, you're so. . . so . . .dumb. You're dumb! You just want to blame your sudden urge to make-out with me on someone else."

"Incorrect."

"Move! I'm going back to our seat if you can't . . .

"The term, Ms. Rosenberg," Snape said, obviously offended by Willow's little rant, "is snog."

Willow opened her mouth in surprise, and Snape leaned in, quickly covering her lips. He pressed against her, and the witch, playfully sucked his lower lip, wrapping her arms around his neck so that she could reach him.

"Slap me," he ordered, his voice muffled in the sudden kiss.

Willow groaned in disappointment, obeying nevertheless. Palm to cheek, a resounding POP broke them apart, for the moment. "That was rude," Willow said, attempting to make her hot blush one of anger instead of passion.

"It wasn't as if you halted me in any way." Snape shook his head. "I apologize, nevertheless. The potion's effects only strengthen as they're held at bay. Thankfully, since we did not digest the brew, it will fade . . .in time."

"Good," Willow answered softly. "That's good news. OK, what was it I wasn't going to say . . .Oh, yeah, you know, I didn't regain my memories until I was in the airport. How were you able to keep up with me? And isn't it odd that we decided to travel across the States together? What's with your fake id? Bestman? And something tells me you know very little about computer sales."

"Stop your insufferable rambling," Snape hissed. When she frowned, he answered, "I was able to track you quite easily, considering that you went to only two places. As for the traveling, I dare say that this decision was made purely as an effect of this dreadful potion, seeing as we tend to make plans that involve us remaining together, even if said plans defy logic."

"And Benji?"

"My passport takes on a legitimate identity, depending on what is in the mind of the security guard checking it. Apparently, I look like a salesman."

"It's the dark aura," Willow agreed.

A silence passed between them.

Willow crossed her arms protectively. "I remember why I suggested you follow me, even if, in my own defense, I had no idea that I'd be heading to L.A. It's not just the potion. I don't think someone should be punished for a crime they didn't commit—and I can't help you unless I'm with you."

Snape's nostrils flared, his eyes becoming slits. In a growling tone, he replied, "I have told you that I am guilty, girl. I have told you, but you refuse to listen. While your aid may come in use, I'll have you know that I am quite guilty of murder."

Willow shook here head, looking down. "We're not getting into this again," she whispered. "Leave."

"What?"

"Leave, as in "go"."

Snape raised a brow.

The witch shook her head. "No, you did not just win a fight," she clarified. _Watch the bubble burst._ "I have to pee."

Severus sneered at her statement, quickly sliding out of the bathroom.

**End Notes: Yes, a quick, OOC snog. Thankfully, a love potion (or spell, in the series) can justify any out of character behavior. Dang, that's handy. 'Oh, look at me and my fancy potion—I can make the characters do whatever I want! Ha!'  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP or BtVS.**

**A/N: Sorry. I've been MIA for a while now. I'd blame college, but I'm pretty sure it was all my fault. Anyhow, I've found the notes that map this story to its ending, and Eros' Brew should be finished within about two weeks, if you're all up for it. This chapter's a little more serious than the others. Also, the rating is a wee bit higher (just a warning).**

**"Fortune Cookie Romance"  
**

Willow knew silence. Standardized tests had trained her to hold her tongue for long periods of time, but at least SATs had the calming clatter of pencil lead scratching and booklets shifting. The cab ride held no such comforts, and the tension present had nothing to do with test anxiety. _Oh, come on! Talk to me! _

Her mental shout-out had earned her a clearing of the throat from the man sitting against the opposite door. Snape. Still in disguise, it seemed. When they'd gotten off the plane, Willow had assumed that he would drop the random-business-man act and that they'd confer their plans. But Severus had walked out of the terminal, bag in hand, and up to a waiting cab, slipping in without even a gesture in her direction. Willow had run to catch-up and, begrudgingly, asked if she could "share" the taxi fare.

And the man still hadn't spoken yet. _Still mad about the peeing thing. Or maybe about murder thing. Who can tell?_

Willow looked up at the driver. From what she could see of him, he was paying attention to the road and would probably take no notice of lighthearted conversation in the backseat. She'd have to tip him for caring less.

"Here on business?" Willow asked Snape.

The man stared out the window. "Convention."

Willow was impressed. Ticked off, sure, but still impressed. She wondered how he had learned about business conventions but had never learned of the Mile High club.

When he didn't ask her a follow-up question, Willow released a sigh. The seat belt digging into the flowing skirt over her thighs, she leaned towards the driver. At the next red light, she smiled up at the rear-view mirror and the driver noticed her close presence.

"You still going to the Hampton?" he asked, clearly puzzled by her display of friendliness. Welcome to L.A.

"Yes," Willow chirped, "we both are. In fact, we're going to the same room. We're having an affair. I'll give you an extra fifty if you make me a blond and him a young, whale-sized Southerner when you mention our descriptions to the PI who asks, okay?"

The driver opened and closed his mouth. "Whatever you say, lady."

Willow leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms. She could feel Severus's glare, hot on her cheek. She heard his buckle unclick and her body tensed. She expected his cold voice to be aimed in her direction. And maybe his wand, too.

Instead, she felt fingers touch her chin and turn her face. Her eyes widened. The man's black eyes were digging a hole in her. She could feel him fiddling around on the outskirts of her mind, but she didn't shove him out. He was still wearing a frown when he leaned against her, kissing her lips gently.

Without another word, he slid back into his seat, finding the buckle.

_What the. . . OH. Confirming our story. Gotcha. _Willow let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

The driver's quickly averted eyes told her that the point had definitely gotten across. In fact, his eyes darting from the road to the rear-view in anticipation started to creep her out a bit. She distracted herself by digging out the fee (and the added "tip").

"East Hampton Suites," the driver announced, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Apparently, he was sad to see the couple go.

Willow unloaded a bundle of cash and pushed Snape out the curb-side. Severus shot her a quick glare, visibly biting his lip as she paid for his ride as well. When he turned toward the hotel's entrance, Willow grabbed his hand, holding him back.

"We're not staying here," she announced.

Snape raised a questioning brow. "Do explain."

"We're staying at the Economy a few miles south," she continued. His brow raised, and she smiled sheepishly. "My friend made reservations here, but I don't think we should stay under my name, do you?"

Snape led her away from a crowd of teenagers walking past, his voice hushed. "And this delay was simply to throw off that pathetic driver? A bit much, I think."

Willow snorted. "No. We stopped here because I need to check up on someone who happens to be at a law firm a few blocks away."

"We?"

"There you go with that 'we' thing."

Willow pulled him along the sidewalks and into a small travel agency. The woman at the front desk opened her mouth, but, before she could utter a word, Willow cut her off.

"Just looking, thanks," Willow snapped before hiding behind the door way, one eye on the watch around her wrist. "And just about now…" She leaned over, glancing out at the sidewalk. An old man passed. Not who she was looking for. "And he's late."

"What are we doing?"

"I need to make sure a friend gets to the law firm," Willow said. _Competent isn't exactly the word of the day in Andrew's calendar. _ "His backup won't be here until later tonight."

Snape walked away from her, something resembling a snort issuing from his nose. He glanced at the wall of brochures, his fingers running over their glossy edges. So many places to escape to. And he'd chosen Ohio.

"Planning a vacation?" Willow asked, her eyes still out the glass door. They darted over to the man's back. She saw him pick up a flyer announcing the romantic exoticism of Brazil. It was Willow's turn to snort. "I saw Iguanza Falls last year. We stayed at the Cataratas." Willow took her eyes off him again, glaring at the glass as if had been the one to wrong her. "It was beautiful. You should go sometime."

"We?" Snape inquired. He turned to face her.

"My partner and I." Willow took a breath, feeling a sting at her eyes. "My ex-girlfriend."

Snape was quiet a moment. "Perhaps I'll visit."

Willow opened her mouth to speak, but a head of short blond hair caught her eye. Andrew strode past with a small bag in hand. Apparently, he'd already dropped his things off at the hotel. Willow motioned for Snape to follow her and took off behind Andrew's humming form.

A few minutes of watching Andrew trip over his feet at the sight of an excitable movie poster, left Willow with a frown. She stopped when he crossed the street, heading along the sidewalk past a wide sign that read "Wolfram and Hart." Snape came to a stop beside the red head.

"I've heard of this firm," Snape announced, his dark brow knitted in thought. His piercing gaze found Willow.

"Not of the good, I know," Willow said, blushing. "It's hard to explain but we've got…old friends who work here. "

Snape didn't reply.

Willow chose to ignore his silence, staring after Andrew's bumbling form instead. The young man entered the double doors to the firm's wide foyer. Willow watched intently, her face glowing slightly as she waited for a sign from within, anything to hint that the firm's reaction to Andrew had been less than friendly. There was nothing.

"Hmm." Willow cocked her head. "Part of me was expecting him to get kicked back out. Go figure." She turned to face the man beside her. "You know, I don't really need to watch the place all night. What are your feelings on Chinese?"

"I have had Thai once. I had no taste for it," Severus noted, his voice crisp from the memory.

"Too spicy for your stuffy taste buds?" Willow grinned. "I think we can find you some nice, bland duck sauce somewhere." She hooked her arm into the crook of his arm. "So you've never had a fortune cookie?"

"I fear I'm missing out on absolutely nothing."

**o)0(o**

"Drumroll, please. . . No, that's an eggroll. . .Nevermind." Willow cleared her throat and began to read the slip of paper. "'A promotion is in your future.' Oh, goddess, I hope not."

She shuttered, dropping the slip into her platter of moo goo chicken. Snape raised a brow. _You really are working those forehead muscles hard today._ Willow smirked at the thought of muscles then blanched, shaking her head as if it would stop the potion's effect. It only made her dizzy.

"Are you having convulsions?" Severus asked, a plastic wrapper crackling in his fingers.

"Will you just open yours already?"

Snape sat a bit straighter. "These are foolish, muggle proverbs so general that they may fit any lifestyle."

"And?"

He sneered at the cookie, breaking it in half. "'You will have a romantic encounter in the near future.'" His black eyes darted up. "Poppycock," he snapped, tossing the slip into the cup of tea he'd abandoned. "I forgo your predictions; though, I might eat the cookie in the end."

_Oh, Goddess. . ._

Willow choked on her fortune cookie, lemon flavored crumbs spilling down her blouse. She regained herself, staring out at the cold presence before her. They locked eyes for a moment before she looked down, biting her lip. _Ok, calm it down, tree-girl. There was no dirty joke there. You're hearing things. Damn potion causing random phrases to take on new meanings! Come on! Have some lesbian pride already. _

"Chew," Snape commanded, leaning back into his chair. The dim light of the restaurant cast his gaunt face in shadow.

"You should wear your hair back," Willow muttered.

"Excuse me?"

Willow attempted to bite her lip and failed. "No-nothing. Just, you know, a suggestion."

Snape stood suddenly, walking toward the back exit. Willow jumped up to follow him, a shameful frown on her face.

"Stop it!" she snapped. "I didn't mean it like that. . .Seriously, keep your hair however you want it."

She stepped out into the darkened alleyway. "Severus?"

A hand caught her from behind, pulling her to the ground. Before she could protest, she saw a flash of Snape above her, his body in a half-crouch, his wand at the ready. His hissed a word between his lips and a bolt of red flew out of the wand and toward the door Willow had just exited. She held back the screech in her throat when she heard a string of swear words.

A man fell out of the door, his wand flying through the air.

"Run!" Snape hissed, pulling Willow to her feet.

They crossed the alleyway and ran out into the empty street. The wizard's arm tightened around her waist. Willow closed her eyes as a strange sensation swept through her. She grimaced, a force pulling at her, willing her to let go of the man at her side. Instead she held on tighter. In an instant, it was over.

With a _pop_, they reappeared behind the airport terminal.

"They found us?" Willow huffed, regaining her footing.

Severus kept his arm around her, as if they might continue the trip at any second. "Obviously," he snapped. "They were watching you," he added.

"Why?"

They walked out onto the busy sidewalk where a crowd of tired passengers were exiting towards the car rentals. He lowered her head towards her ear, watching the corner of the airport out the side of his eye.

"Perhaps they realized who you were," he answered, leading her into the parking lot. "You are, after all, considered quite the threat. You should separate from me before they bring up conspiracy charges. You're a muggle—they wouldn't bother with a trial before capturing you."

The wizard waited for an elderly couple to pass before whipping out his wand and pointing it at one of the cars. She heard an electrical click from within it. She tried the handle. It opened. She slipped inside. Snape walked around the front, sliding into the driver's seat as if it came natural to him.

"You know how to drive?" Willow asked. From what she had gathered, he didn't seem very familiar with any form of transportation that didn't involve magic.

"We're not using the vehicle." He reached across to grab her hand tightly. "Hold to me," he ordered.

Before Willow could register what they were doing, she felt the familiar pull of that powerful force. They landed behind the hotel Hampton. Willow took a shaky breath.

"That's quite enough of that," she announced. " Why are we here again?"

"Because I'm unfamiliar with the hotel you wanted to visit. We can stay here, in a room that is not under your name," Snape announced.

"What was the deal with the car?" Willow asked. She shook her head, the answer already there. "My theory! About tracking magic. You took it seriously?"

Snape paused, finally releasing a sly grin. "They will have a difficult time finding the location of our last apparition, I assume."

Willow snorted, approaching the back entry of the hotel. She held a hand in front of the door's lock and the light flickered green above the card slot. She pulled the door open, gesturing for him to enter.

"I have a few tricks myself," she said.

"As I've noted," Snape said, amusement in his usually cold voice. He walked inside. "Which room?"

Voices were approaching from around the corner. Willow grabbed the wizard's arm and pulled him towards the elevator. With a ding, it opened and the pair entered. Willow pressed a floor number without thought.

"Wanna suite?" she asked.

They walked down a long and rounded a corner. Willow looked over both shoulders, putting her back to the security camera. Her hand hovered over the card slot and the door popped open. She pushed it slowly, scoping out the room.

"Empty," she announced.

She shut the door behind them, latching the lock without a second thought.

Snape nodded to himself. "You should be safe here," he noted, "but it would be best if you changed your location in a few hours."

Willow's gaze narrowed. "You're planning on leaving," she said softly.

The man didn't reply. She reached out, grabbing his arm. "Are you?" she snapped.

Snape's black gaze caught her. "Yes. The longer I stay near you, the more likely it is that you'll be charged with aiding a murderer…"

"But you're not guilty."

"I am!" he hissed, this face livid. He pulled out of her grip and stepped away, meeting her eye. She could feel his mind tugging onto hers. "I am a killer, Ms. Rosenberg. I have no idea why you refuse to belief that simple fact—perhaps the potion has a stronger effect on you than you know. Your judgment is obviously impaired, or you would have realized that I am not the sort of fellow to question!"

Willow shook her head, flinging his mental touch back at him. "Stop," she growled, "trying to make me believe that!"

She pushed the magic back at full force. An image flashed across her mind. It was Severus, young, his face smooth but just as pale. And livid. He was arguing with another woman around Willow's age, a red head with a round, pregnant belly. The scene flashed to another one, to an older Snape, the cold man who Willow had come to know. . .An old man was across from him. . ."After all this time. . ." the old man seemed to say.

Snape broke away from the memory, collapsing to the floor. He breathing was heavy, his hands shaking against the carpet beneath him. The knuckled over his wand were white from strain, and his face looked just as bloodless.

"Who was that?" Willow asked. "And who's Lily?"

The wizard flinched at the name. "Who is the woman you killed for?" he hissed in return.

Willow's face paled. "How. . .dare you," she breathed. She could feel the darkness building in her, seeping through her pores as she approached him. Suddenly she stopped, her expression lightening as the relevance of his question hit her. "Oh. . . She was. . ." Her voice trailed off. "I look a little like her, don't I?"

The look of hatred on Snape's face had not faded in the least, but an answer seemed to force its way out of his mouth. "Yes. You do."

"It's hard for you," Willow said. She shook her head, putting out a hand to help him up.

Begrudgingly, the wizard took it. He didn't release it when he came to his feet. "That wasn't yours to know. If it wasn't for. . ." He glared at her. "If it wasn't for this potion, I would have. . ."

"What?" Willow asked. She swallowed hard. "You would have what? Used that against me?"

The wand flew from his hand, bouncing off of the room's door. Snape's eyes widened, his face painted with a look of shock and contempt.

"What now?" Willow egged. "No wand? What would you do to me without your stick, hmm?"

She raised her hand, and he flew backward, bouncing off the closer of the two beds. He tried to raise himself onto his elbows, but she flicked her finger, and he fell flat against the comforter.

"Not much of anything, I guess," she concluded. The witch approached, leaning over him. "Now who's Mr. Bad Ass Wizard Guy?"

He jerked up, grabbing both of her shoulders and throwing her down onto the bed beside him. His lips found hers in an instant. Willow pushed her head back into the bed, a toothy grimace on her face.

"I am," he sneered. He released a frustrated sigh and rolled away from her. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off.

Willow pushed herself up onto her elbows, her expression softening. _I can't believe I'm doing this! I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. _"We can."

Snape turned. "What?"

"I. . ." Willow tripped over her own voice. "I mean, I'm not really into the stubbly crowd—haven't been for some time now. But I wouldn't mind." She puffed out her cheeks. "I mean. I won't slap you or anything."

The wizard blinked. He opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he replied, "It's the potion."

_What in Hades am I doing again? _Willow raised a brow. "Yeah, and?"

Snape cocked his head. "You cannot be seriously entertaining the thought of. . ."

The witched awkwardly scooted closer, reaching out to touch his cheek. "You don't know me very well," she noted. "I entertain. A lot. Call me Ms. Hostess. I don't see where I'm not getting this point across. I'm mean, kudos to you for trying to resist. But, we can't just ride this out. . ." She hesitated, frowning. "Or I guess you could say that we can just ride this out, just not in _that_ sense."

She bit her own cheek to stop herself from going into full babble mode. "I mean, I guess we could just wait for it to end, but then I'll go back to being all resentful of my ex, and you'll go back to whatever asexual behavior you were previously maintaining. . ."

The wizard leaned into her, his dark hair brushing her neckline. She sucked in a nervous breath as his hand began to tug up her long peasant skirt. He ran his lips across her collar bone.

"After all," she whimpered, "we are adults. And people get together all the time for his type of thing—and there are not even potions involved, most of the time. . ." Her voice cut off as his hand gripped onto her smooth hip, his fingers pulling at the string of cloth stretched across her skin.

"You can quit talking now," he noted.

She released a nervous giggle before catching herself. "I won this one," she concluded.

He conceded. "Indeed you did, Ms. Rosenberg."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I claim no rights to copyrighted material.**

"**Lackluster Lovey Dovey-ness"**

_Oh, boy. Boy being the odd word out here. _

Willow felt tingly in various places. And achy, though she'd be the first to admit that achy was not in any way bad or, considering the evenings events, out of place. It had been a long time since 'that' had happened, and she'd never experienced anything like it directly after a magically-aided fight.

It was new. Buffy would have to know.

She released a shaky breath when she felt the cool hand lying across her bare, flat stomach. The long fingers tickling her skin curled slightly, as if they had sensed her muscles tensing. Willow stared up at the ceiling; it was a beige tile, nice, and she wondered how on earth she'd not noticed it earlier. _Probably because I was a tad bit distracted. . . _Her head lolled to her right. Black hair spilled over the pillows, mixing in with hers. There was a face buried there, unmoving, the sound of long, even breaths rolling out over the white cloth.

Willow rolled onto her side, letting the hand under the blankets fall to the mattress. She slipped her own over the man's back, caressing his sharp shoulder blades before sweeping down his spine. She watched him shiver in his sleep, his mouth opening to mutter a name.

"Soft skin," she whispered against him, a glowing grin on her face. It quickly faded.

_Soft skin. _ Willow blinked at the thought before closing her eyes, meditating on the moment. What was her body feeling? Contentment, definitely, but something else as well. _Comfort?_ Check mark. Content and comfortable. But not aroused.

Willow shot up, taking the sheet over her chest with her. She wormed out of the bed and stared down at the man again, taking in his form beneath the covers, imagining what she'd seen only a few hours ago. Remembering very enjoyable memories.

Still nothing.

"Oh, darn." She muffled the words with a hand over her mouth. While she didn't feel the remotest sense of disgust when she let her imagination roam, she felt nothing akin to the lust she'd been tackling since. . .

"The potion," she hissed with sudden realization, "it's worn off."

Willow rounded the bed, finding her clothes on the other side. She slipped into her skirt and blouse, leaving the sheet on the floor. One task down, she began to pace the length of the room.

"Ok, ok. . .let's think this through," she muttered. _Ok, so you finally fold and make with the making and then BAM gone goes the lust bunnies and the hetero butterflies. Great, that's just great. _Her eyes were heavy and her pace slowed considerably. "Can't think, still tired," the witch added. With sudden inspiration, she headed for the door.

_Free coffee first, dealing with consequences of a night of wild romping, second. It's a plan. _

She turned the handle and cracked the door open, suddenly pausing when she heard a faint sound from outside. It was distant, but distinct. If anyone else had heard it, they probably would have assumed someone had just had a fight with a balloon, but Willow had heard it too much over the past few days to dismiss it.

It was definitely a pop.

She peeked out the door, cautiously, her brow furrowed when she realized the direction that the noise had come from. The elevator doors were at the end of the hall. She heard them open and watched a young woman with spiky, turquoise hair stumble out, her toe caught on the slightly uneven lip below the sliding door. The woman muttered under her breath before straightening and looking forward.

Willow closed the door quietly, before the woman looked down the hall.

_She looks so familiar. _

Willow turned, her mouth opened, but only a slight gasp left her lips. Severus was standing behind her, the sheet she had abandoned wrapped around his waist and a finger over his lips to quiet her reaction.

"They've found us?" he whispered.

Willow nodded. "I think—a young woman with wild hair." She frowned. "And I swear she works at a department store in Cleveland."

Snape's brow lowered at the description. "An auror. Tonks, no doubt," he muttered. "She was in the store after I oblivated you. Did she see you just now?"

Willow shook her head. "But they obviously know we're here—she apparated to this floor."

"Unless she simply found your name on the register—your friend did reserve a room in the hotel under your name, correct?"

"But on this floor?" Willow persisted. "A coincidence? We can't chance that."

Snape gave her a curt nod. "A moment, please," he requested.

Willow watched him gather his clothes and disappear into the bathroom. A minute later he reappeared, dressed, his hair pushed back out of his face, his wand in hand. The slight wrinkles on his face seemed deeper than they had been a few moments earlier.

"Are you ready?"

Before she could answer, he grabbed hold of her wrist, but the pulling sensation she expected never came. Willow looked up the see the wizard's head cocked slightly, his eyes narrowed in study.

Willow released an uneasy sigh. "It's gone, isn't it? I noticed when I woke up."

Snape blinked, his dark eyes somewhat clouded when they found hers again. "It seems the effects have diminished somewhat." He paused in thought. "There's no reason for you to continue with me."

Her voice softened. "You could still use my help, though."

"Traveling with you has been entertaining, Ms. Rosenberg," Snape began, his voice lowered. Something resembling a smile crossed his face before disappearing again. "I cannot say it was regrettable in my case, but it is time we ended this, don't you think?"

Willow swallowed hard. "If. . .Is that what you want?"

He was silent a moment longer. "It is."

"But you're not off the hook yet," Willow noted. "It's not really fair, what they think of you."

Severus straightened, releasing her hand, as if in an afterthought. "Perhaps they'll know the truth one day. Sooner rather than later would be best," he said. He took a step back. "I apologize for the inconvenience. . .Willow."

"Will I see you again?" she asked.

His lips twitched slightly before settling into a thin line. "Thank you," he forced.

Willow blinked. He was gone before her eyes reopened, stinging slightly with sudden wetness. She heard the door open behind her a second before the spell hit her skull.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I claim no rights to copyrighted material.**

"**Of Shellfish Affections and Candy Thievery" **

"We had the best search her mind, Moody—there's nothing there."

"She aided a murderer, girl. And there's no trace of the_ Imperious_ in her memories. That should be something that bothers the lot of us. She's hiding something, I tell you. She knows where Snape is, she must."

"You're paranoid. No one can hide their thoughts that well. Not from professionals. Especially not someone using muggle-magic."

"Well, Ms. _Nymphadora_, perhaps if you'd read the reports on this particular witch-"

"She's a muggle, and the reports from the States are notoriously exaggerated. And don't ever use my name again."

"Exaggerated? She destroyed a town."

"Supposedly," the woman's voice pointed out. "Moody, she's been oblviated so much that I doubt she'll remember his local, even if she'd somehow managed to keep the information from our people."

The man growled. "Mind you this, there's something not right here, and I mean to find out what it is. This one's just lucky she's not a registered witch and that she's got friends in high places. If. . ."

"Quiet—I think she's waking up!" the woman hissed. "Get going before she sees your ugly mug and has a fit. Dobbs and I will take care of it from here."

There was a sudden _pop_.

Willow's eyes flickered open at the sound. She looked around, taking in the usual sights of her home, the familiar touch of her couch beneath her. Two people were standing in front of her fireplace, their backs to it. Willow noticed their uniforms at once—they worked with the gas department.

"No leaks, thankfully," one of them, a middle aged woman with a surprisingly young, strangely accented voice said. "Did you hear me, madam?"

Willow blinked in confusion. "Did I fall asleep?"

The male worker cleared his throat, drawing her attention. He looked about the woman's age, but balding and his voice was heavy and laced with Jersey. "Yeah, you said you were tired, after the trip. Plane rides wear me out, too, you know?"

Without fully registering his words, Willow nodded along with them. She could remember it now, coming in from her boring trip from L.A. She'd seen Andrew from afar, retired to her hotel room where she'd watched TV and ordered far too much food. She'd had lobster. Funny, she didn't care much for seafood.

She shook her head, pushing that aside. She'd gotten off the plane in Cleveland, taken a taxi back to her place, settled in right before the gas people had arrived to check on her lines. That was about right, she determined. She must have conked out for just a few minutes then.

But hadn't she heard voices earlier? And neither one of them had had a Jersey accent. Was someone else here? And what was up with the woman's obviously fake American accent. Willow stared at the other woman, uneasiness coursing through her. She could have sworn she knew the woman, even if her face didn't look the least bit familiar.

"Thanks for checking on my lines," Willow muttered. She stood up, her legs jelly beneath her. Her body swayed back and forth and a splitting headache shot from temple to temple. She grasped her head in both hands, groaning. "Who hit me with a bat?"

"Are you alright?" the woman chirped, stepping forward quickly.

Willow looked up. The woman's look of concern was comforting, but Willow's eyes crossed past her to the man behind her. His body was tense, his knuckles white where they held a long toolbox. If Willow didn't know better, she would have sworn he looked ready to attack her.

"Fine. Just feeling a bit woozy," Willow assured. She decided that sitting back down would be a good idea. She fell against the pillows, rubbing her forehead.

"Alright then," the man said, tapping the woman on the arm to signal her. "We'll be leaving then. Have a good afternoon."

Willow nodded, watching them retreat to the front door, closing it behind them. Her eyes narrowed. _That was a little weird, wasn't it?_ She shook her head. No, she'd just freaked them out with her klutziness, she was sure. Her purse was on the floor at the end of the couch. She picked it up, looking from its open zipper back to the little stand beside the front door where she usually sat her bags when she came in.

"That's odd," she muttered.

She dug inside, pulling out a small bottle of aspirin and tiny bottle of water she'd grabbed at the hotel. Willow took the pills and a swig of the water. It was cold. She frowned. _I thought airports took up unsealed bottles?_

Willow took a breath, pushing thoughts of plane security aside for the moment. When she made it back up, she decided that the clothes she was wearing felt a little worse for wear. She walked towards her room. The closet doors were looming, so she dug into her dresser, instead, pulling out a pair of sweats. The shower was calling. . .

"_Moo! Moooo!"_

And it didn't sound a thing like that. Willow glared at her alarm clock. Cows were cute, in a bovine way, but this Christmas present gone wrong was quickly becoming annoying.

"_Wake up, farmer. Ol' Betsy needs a milkin'!" _

Willow frowned. When had she even set the alarm? She smacked "Ol' Betsy" on the head, stopping the plastic cow from continuing. She'd almost turned back towards her bathroom when she saw the item behind the clock. It was a small bag from a department store.

"I thought I left you in the living room, candy," she remembered. Her stomach growled at the thought. To have eaten so much, she sure felt hungry.

She shook her head. "Why in the goddess's name would I have eaten lobster?" she asked. Nevertheless, she picked up the bag, dumping out the underwear set to get to the heart-shaped box of chocolates there.

She sat on the edge of her bed and pulled off the lid. Four chocolates ranging from dark to milky stared back at her. There were supposed to be five. One was missing, and she was certain she hadn't eaten it.

In the distance, Willow's phone nearly rang off its hook. She ignored it, continuing to stare down at the box of chocolates. She could hear Buffy's voice over the answering machine, asking her what had happened to her cell, instructing her to call as soon as she got in from L.A. But, still, the witch ignored the voice. Her eye had caught a slip of paper stuck to the inside of the box-top.

She pulled it free. A square valentine, perforated edges included, unfolded in her hands. The front showed a cartoon kitten dressed as a witch stirring a cauldron. "Dear Valentine. . ." the front read. She flipped it over. The back's pre-written script read, "You put a spell on me. "

The to and from portion was blank, but at the corner, a pen had left its mark in small, precise font.

_Cataratas._

Beneath, it was signed a name: _Bestman_.

Willow's brow furrowed. But a smile crept onto her face, even as her head felt as if would split open. A moment in a small room covering pamphlets crossed her eyes. A blurry memory. There was a man. . . She knew him. Somehow.

She walked to her desk, sitting down, her eyes scanning the window to make sure that the curtains were closed. When she was certain she was alone, she picked up her pen, holding it against the paper. She hesitated only a moment before writing: _Planning a vacation? _

Willow nearly jumped when the letters faded away, new words taking their place. She sighed, as if in relief, a sad grin planted on her face as she slowly read the message. She folded the valentine when she'd finished, her eyes distant with thought.

"Severus," she whispered.

**End Notes: So, I only have one chapter to go on this story. Encouragement and suggestions are welcome. Thanks for reading! **


	10. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I claim no rights to copyrighted material.**

**Epilogue:**

_**Four Months Later**_

The lounge was lively as she passed, full of red-faced tourists, wiping the sweat off their brows and talking of tomorrow's adventures. Willow gave the bar a fleeting smile when she heard a Hispanic accent mention Iguaza Falls, the magnificent array of waterfalls that spread between Brazil and Argentina's borders. The last time she'd seen the falls, she'd not been alone. Kennedy had thought they were beautiful but had seen them before. Willow had been breathless.

Willow felt a sudden yearning. A part of her wanted to walk back out of the hotel, into the blazing heat of coming evening, just to get a ride to the falls. She brushed the thought away, determined, and walked past the red sofas of the lobby and down the white, marbles-like floors, ignoring the Argentinean beauty at the front desk who stared at the witch with a question in her dark eyes.

_Any other time, that would be interesting,_ Willow thought, blushing at the image it conjured.

"Bad me," she muttered. She pushed her duffle bag to her side, getting on the opening elevator with a chuckle. She pressed a button but pulled a small slip of paper from her pocket to double check herself. The kitty witch stared at her from over a bubbling cauldron; she flipped the Valentine over:

_I lost someone, long ago. She was irreplaceable. But that does not mean that I would be unwilling to join you for a drink. _

_May 18__th_

_223_

The tight script was familiar to her now. She'd been reading it every night for the past few weeks, a question in her heart. She'd made up her mind the night before and ordered a ticket, leaving Buffy a message on the phone. Her Wiccan underlings would miss her, she was sure, but she wouldn't be gone too long. Eventually everything would balance out . . .Surely.

Willow took a nervous breath, finding herself alone in the corridor. She followed a sign, staring at the brass numbers on the doors. 221. 222. . . Willow reached out towards the next door, putting a hand over the card slot. A second later it blinked green. She stepped inside.

White and beige assaulted her eyes. Pale flowers, pale walls, a pale comforter on the single bed. It was lovely in its own way, clean, but lifeless. The bed was undisturbed, but a small black trunk sat at its foot. She heard a sound from the bathroom, running water.

Her head suddenly felt too full. She took a seat at the small breakfast table beside the bed, tossing her bag to the floor. Two shot glasses sat before her on napkins that read Cataratas in shining gold font. Beside them sat a tall vial filled with a red, sparkling substance: Eros' Brew.

She pulled the cork out of the vial, hesitating only a moment before she proceeded to halve the elixir into the two small glasses. Done, she corked it once more, careful not to get the substance on her fingers, and sat it aside.

"You let yourself in," a voice stated.

Willow's eyes darted up. Snape was standing at the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around his slim body at the waist. His wet hair hung against his pale skin, washed out by their white surroundings. There were heavy, blue circles under his weary eyes.

Willow sat the Valentine on the table, tapping it lightly. "I thought you had a mission," she said.

"They don't need me anymore," he said, his voice strained.

"Do they know the truth yet? Why you did what you did?" Willow asked.

"They will. Soon." He didn't move from his spot. Black eyes darted to the tabletop. "The potion. . . Is this what you want?" he asked.

"Don't," Willow replied. She stood up, snatching up the two glasses and holding one out in his direction. He took it from her. "Don't start," she continued. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't, you know, want to." Realizing that her argument was weak, she pointed to her face. "Does this like the face of the indecisive?"

The wizard didn't smile, but his eyes widened slightly. "You understand then?"

"That this can't be reversed?" Willow asked. "I know. I mentioned it to you." She could smell the spicy liquid in the glass. "But it's alright."

"I'm not your type."

Willow forced herself not to snort. _You sure aren't_. "Severus, I get this, alright. I know what you want to do. And I want it, too." Her eyes fell, glistening slightly as a memory hit her. "You said she was irreplaceable. I know exactly what you mean. I'll never find another Tara." Her voice broke, and she swallowed down the sob that threatened to immerge. "I'll never love anyone that way again. Not without help."

She felt his hand on her shoulder but refused to look up. Not yet. She forced a smile onto her face. "So what if you have a penis—can't hold that against a guy."

"I believe I will be receiving the better end of this arrangement," Snape noted, a hint of humor in his dry voice. He put a hand under the witch's chin, lifting her gaze to his. "I'm selfish enough to persuade you to do this."

"But you won't have to," Willow said. She stepped away from him. "We'll never be happy, Severus, not with our lives, not with another person. But we can be content."

Their glasses clinked together. Willow lifted hers, swallowing Eros' Brew and seeing, from the corner of her eye, the man in front of her do the same. The potion was spicy on her tongue and somewhat bittersweet.

**Fin.**


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